Messy
by Coletta
Summary: Alucard's repeated attempts to seduce Integra end in humiliating failure-as his advances become more desperate, their relationship spirals out of control until Integra threatens to end their her family's contract for his servitude. On Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

He had grown adept at sensing the precise moment the hypodermic needle plunged in the hollow of her arm and began sucking out warm, sweet Hellsing blood. Alucard squirmed with gratification, telepathically observing his master's blood being drawn out of her veins. "Mmm. Won't you join me for dinner for once?"

"I'd rather _not_ watch you guzzle down my blood while I eat, thank you," Integra thought to her servant. She shifted uncomfortably on her bed. She was careful not to disturb her IV. The practitioner sitting beside her had no idea that she was carrying on a conversation with a vampire who dozed three floors below them.

Alucard smiled at his absent master. "Actually, I was thinking more about doing it the old fashion way."

"You can take the old fashion way and shove it."

"But I like it." He sighed. "You'd be surprised how much more appreciative I'd be if you'd take in to consideration my...experience. Besides, it's a _bond_. Shouldn't we be a little _closer_?"

The nurse withdrew the needle. "Should I have this iced and stored with the rest?" he asked the knight.

"No!" Alucard roared inside his coffin, the feigned innocence vanished faster then a drop of water on a sizzling frying pan. "I want it while it's still hot! Have them bring it to me!"

Sir Integra muttered "Child." She sat up slowly and rolled her sleeve back down. The vampire's desperation irritated her. Alucard could be a true cold blooded monster, unknowable as he was evil, and then turn around and throw the most petty temper tantrums over the most preposterous bullshit.

Playing master was easy. Playing mommy was hard.

"Please give it to Walter on your way out the door, he'll take care of it."

--

A few minutes later, the vampire was standing at the top of the sub-level stairs, waiting impatiently for Walter.

Alucard waited for this moment all year. This would be the 11th time he would receive a medical bag full of warm, virginal, noble, _female_ Hellsing blood.

He had never been able to formulate an intelligent plan of action to make this highly anticipated pleasure last. All he could do was ravenously gulp and suck. Always, it only lasted a second before it was gone. And even though he mentally reminded himself that _this time_ he was going to drink slowly and savor every drop, he was trembling with expectancy. There would be no self-control this time or any other time. He was a slave.

Walter carried the blood bag neatly on a tray. "Sir Integra has already left with the driver, as you probably know, and she'll return promptly on Monday morning—when you're no longer likely to be a distraction."

"Who, me?" But even as Alucard said it, his voice sank into a resonant growl. Walter's chit-chat was getting in the way of his dinner.

Finally meeting Alucard, Walter presented the blood by extending the tray towards him, making a point to stay as far away from the ravenous vampire as possible without being self-conscious. No matter how many times this exchange occurred, this never stopped being awkward. Even though Alucard would be feeding on Sir Integra's blood without any harm to Integra, it made Walter's skin crawl. "Enjoy, sir."

Alucard wanted to snatch up the bag and quickly make his escape, but finally confronted with it, he handled it gingerly, as if it would burst if he handled it too roughly. Holding it with two hands, he turned and walked back down the stairs, shutting the heavily bolted door behind him for privacy.

--

A little distance outside London, the Rolls Royce cruised down the highway.

Light rain pelted on the windshield. Outside, the black tress rustled against the cloudy, gray sky. The street lamps generated halos. Even as the Rolls Royce was putting miles between herself and the Hellsing mansion, Sir Integra felt she was still trapped inside, felt Alucard's dead breath against the back of her neck.

Integra kept her hand clasped firmly over her bandaged arm. It tingled.

She tried to put it from her mind and focus on her vacation. The weekend would be spent at a private home where she could rest after giving so much blood. It was customary. If she stayed at home, she would be tempted to work and that would ultimately cause her to collapse.

It wasn't enough that Alucard had to be fed her blood year after year. In fact, she had discovered the best way to keep him sated was to mix a trace amount of her blood in with every pint that Alucard, and now Seres, drank. This meant that Alucard wasn't a mess by the end of each year, skulking about and causing mischief because he was slowly slipping from her control. Of course, he still became a little wild, a little more daring. And this year, especially, he'd been worse than usual. Because Integra had had a complete blood transfusion due to the vampire attack all those months ago, she had to put off giving her annual feed.

Alucard had been beside himself. But now, all of that would be over, or at least it would be by the time she went home.

--

There was no door to Alucard's resting chamber--it had been bricked up. In this way, only Alucard could reach it, and thus avoid the possibility of someone discovering his coffin as he slept. He had few fears, and none that he would ever admit. But in his coffin, he was vulnerable.

It was a tiny room, much smaller then Seres's room, without any light source and with no furniture except his coffin. The coffin itself was actually inside an elevated stone vault, which contained the necessary soil from his homeland.

This was his home. No one could ever disturb him here, not his enemies and not even his master. It wasn't exactly a secret place, however.

He had brought Integra here once, against her will. She was still very small then and she hadn't been his master for very long. He couldn't exactly remember the circumstances, but he had needed to hide her somewhere during battle, and he needed to put her where she couldn't run into trouble. And he trusted she would look for trouble, proud master that she was.

He smiled a bit, caressing the bag. She was furious when he left her.

The most rewarding part, though, was going back for her after the fighting was done and seeing how frazzled she was. She thought he would leave her in the stone prison with no way out, as her father had left _him_ imprisoned. The mix of emotions on her face when he returned—relief mostly, but also a little fear at realizing she was still trapped _with_ him, and then happiness because she at least wasn't alone anymore—he still carried that image in his mind.

She'd fumbled around in the pitch black for a while as he watched and enjoyed his own ability to see and her ability to trip and fall down and look appropriately embarrassed. "Can you see me?" she asked sheepishly.

"Yes," he replied, leaning against the wall and making no move to make his exact position known.

She heaved a frustrated sigh, holding her hands out and taking little swipes at the air until her fingers touched cold rock. She pressed her body against the wall, facing him without knowing, and closed her useless eyes. "If you're here, I suppose it's all over up there."

"I had enough. There wasn't anything left that amused me. So, how do you like my little home?"

"Get me out of here already, Alucard." Integra spun around, aiming her voice in every direction. She flopped back against the stone wall, titled her chin up and looked despairingly at the ceiling and waited impatiently for Alucard to reply. He didn't, to spite her. She stomped her foot.

Alucard's head cocked slightly, like a curious dog. Oh, now she sounded like she was on the verge of breaking down. Should be fun. Just to see how she'd react, he hesitated.

She snapped. "ALUCARD!? What are you waiting for? I need to get out of here! I need to be out there! I need to fix this mess!"

As usual, Alucard didn't have to do anything to cause his master's tantrum, but of course in her mind he was cause of the whole catastrophe. _Hmph, some catastrophe_. A dozen or less dead guards. That was nothing. If only Alucard could begin to give his new master an idea of the armies of undead he'd mowed down for sport, the countless humans and ghouls crushed under his boot. Alucard smiled affectionately at the little girl running in circles before him. Over a couple humans. He couldn't suppress his laughter.

The laughter finally gave away his position some and Integra whirled to face the direction of his voice. "What the hell is so funny?!"

"You're just…" Alucard pinched his sinuses to keep the glee-tears at bay.

Integra was frazzled. "How dare you patronize me at a time like this?"

"Again!" Alucard wiped away an escaping, bloody tear. "You'll see in time this is nothing. Just a fraction of a night's work." He sighed, recomposing himself. "You'll get used to it."

Apparently, Integra decided to give up on controlling Alucard for a moment. "Did anyone die?" she asked, surrendering.

"A lot of people," he told her proudly. So many of those deaths had been due to his masterful touch.

"I see." Poor thing sounded so tired. She stepped away from the wall, her arms wrapped around her body. Alucard paid close attention to how her hair spilled over her shoulders and hid her shamed face. As Integra crossed the room, she met the vault at the other side. She placed her hands on the lid. "I was wondering what this was before. It's you're coffin, isn't it?"

Alucard stood up straight. His mood plummeted, his smile vanished. "It's inside." He didn't like anyone poking around inside his coffin.

"Can I see?" she asked, curiously lifting the vault lid to expose the coffin inside.

"Well, you can't see much of anything, can you?" He went to her and put his hands around her wrists. The sudden and unexpected contact made Integra jump. Alucard lifted her hands off the vault. "I don't like anyone touching it."

She had found his glowing red eyes and stared at them. "What's wrong?"

"It's mine!" he shouted at her, causing her to recoil. He arched over her, glaring down at his little master. "Don't touch it! Don't ever touch it!" His hands were curled into claws, and his teeth were clamped tightly together and it was he could do to keep himself from snarling. He turned around and placed his gloved hands protectively against the polished wooden lid of his coffin, smoothing his finger tips against the smooth surface to remove Integra's dirty finger prints.

A whole minute passed without either of them moving or saying anything.

Then Integra stepped forward and slammed her fist down on the coffin lid with a resounding "crack!"

Alucard jumped.

Then he looked at his master's face.

Integra was staring defiantly at the coffin, and the hairline crack that had formed on the surface.

"I want to hit _you_," she said in a low, boiling voice, "but I thought you deserved this more." Her eyes met his. "You can spin me in circles all you want. You can make fun of me for having compassion for the fallen soldiers who looked to _me_ for direction when _I wasn't there_." There were tears in her eyes, but they were frozen in her icy glare and would not fall. "But I'll get you back for _everything_. Don't ever yell at me like that again."

Another minute passed and neither vampire nor little girl moved or glanced in another direction.

Alucard's blood was on fire, his skin was crawling with hellhounds eager to rip a certain child's throat. But then…this was _good_. Standing before him was the true master he served; angry, dominating, without a trace of fear. This was the master he served, not that sniveling child she had been a moment ago. And by her expression, and by the smug smile growing on her face, she knew exactly what she had done.

From that day forward, there was no question who was the stronger person between them. Alucard grudgingly accepted his place, and although he frequently tested his bindings, Integra was always quick to shorten the leash. It was the first time Alucard had ever felt enslaved. He had served Hellsing for two generations before her, but no master until Integra made him feel so trapped.

That had been so long ago. Had Alucard been wiser, and he secretly admitted to himself he was not half as clever or self-disciplined as humans gave him credit for, he might have seized the opportunity at that moment to make his fiery little master his servant and concubine. It was only later Alucard realized how stupidly he had acted in the basement, to have tormented her rather than seduce her. He could have kept her there a little while. She was still a little frightened enough and a little too excited to see him…he could have convinced her to drink his blood then. But he had been oblivious to the opportunity and it slipped by. Better that it did, or she wouldn't have grown up. She would make a much better vampire now, anyways. However, after all the years, she had grown cold and bitter. She'd never allow herself to be so vulnerable around him again, not like the way she did when she was a child.

Now the closest he might ever be to that sweet taste again was a warm, not even hot, medical bag full of Integra's blood.

Alucard pressed the little blood bag against his chest. He had relaxed into nostalgia, remembering how cute and foolish his master had once been. It shamelessly excited him.

Touching the bag, he could feel the heat sapping, but it was still warm. Heat leeched through his clothing, making the rest of the room that much colder. He dipped his face and pressed his mouth against the plastic. He couldn't smell the blood through the plastic the way he could smell blood through flesh, but he could pretend.

Here, and only here, in his doorless resting chamber, he could pretend he had a live victim subdued in his embrace, and with no one watching, who would know?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I first published this story to back in 2005/2006. I uploaded 7 chapters, and then it remained unfinished after writing myself into a corner. Actually, I didn't really write myself into a corner as much as I wrote an outrageously _**smutastic**_ ending, but at the time I believe adult content wasn't allowed on . So rather than dumb it down with an unsatisfying ending, just to make it pg, I just left it unfinished.

Honestly, I don't know if that rule has changed, but since then an "M" rating had been added, so I can only assume mature content is kosher now. If not, I'll post all that I can and post the last chapter on adultfanfiction, if need be. There simply isn't enough hot Hellsing smutfics out there to let this one slide.

I've kept this ficlit saved on my hard drive all these years and occasionally find it and re-read it, and think, "I really need to post this sometime." And so, I've corrected a lot of grammatical errors (tell me again, what's the difference between "than" and "then"? I only have a masters degree, is it really that important?) and made some small changes based on the reviews I received and I am going to now re-post it in its entirety, complete with ending, which I will do over the course of the next week or so.

I also lengthened the chapters to make the story more compact. I thought before the chapters were too short and it was distracting to click on a new chapter every scene. So this will probably be 4 to 5 chapters when completed.


	2. Chapter 2

The Atlantic was gray and dirty, with no clear distinction between polluted sea and polluted sky.

The ocean was supposed to be calming.

Sir Integra had no romantic connections to the sea as other Britons did. Many of her fellow countrymen were descendents of fishermen, captains and sailors and therefore stories about the mysterious ocean were passed down through the generations. But Sir Integra's ancestors were Dutch and the extent of her childhood bedtime stories had more to do with real monsters then the ones once thought to haunt the depths.

Sir Integra was sitting alone in a swinging seat near the porch. The Bellhurst Bed and Breakfast was one of the Round Table's best kept secrets; a small inn overlooking the coast. They served excellent tea and had nice, cozy beds. The people who roomed here worked exclusively for the government and came for weekend retreats to catch up on sleep, just as Integra had. It was pleasant enough. But she had the sneaky suspicion that Bellhurst was two steps left of a mental hospital for England's loyal servants. Everyone around her was ready for a nervous breakdown.

And she couldn't find her slippers. She had padded around in her room for ten minutes looking for them. Ten minutes in a room no bigger then a sardine can, looking for slippers. She still didn't know where they were. So she went barefoot, in her pajamas and robe, to the porch, thinking to herself, "I _belong_ in a mental hospital."

As she swung back and forth, the ocean breeze fingering strands of her straw hair, she closed her eyes and savored the salt in the air. "I'm almost by myself," she mummered. "There isn't even a phone in this building where they can contact me. I hate this." Her toes dragged in the sand as she swung back and forth. Walter _had_ insisted she bring along one of the guards as a body guard, and Integra agreed. But he was asleep in the next room and she had been confident she could sit outside with a cup of coffee a not run into trouble. "I want noise. I want an update every 20 minutes."

Suddenly feeling resentfully energized, she stood up and started marching back to the house. She'd had enough of this holiday. It was killing her. Relaxing to her was the same as procrastinating, and every second she was away from her house "relaxing", reports were piling up, uninvestigated, and it was making her _crazy_.

But then Sir Integra, with her stomach dropping like a rock and her vision blurring, remembered why she had taken a holiday in the first place. She also remember Walter's advice not to stand up too fast or run around or get too excited until her blood levels corrected themselves. She was overcome with dizziness. She wobbled for a second and then dropped to her knees.

She didn't want to vomit. She was sure she was going to vomit. Just the thought of the word 'vomit' made her want to vomit even more. "Fuck." She fought back the bile in her throat and thought about a cup of water. She concentrated on the image of a nice, cold glass of water with ice in it, and how she was going to get one when she got back to the house.

She breathed deeply for a little while. Finally, her stomach stopped somersaulting.

She sat up slowly, wiping her damp forehead with a slightly shaking forearm, her mind racing.

The toll on her body was more intense then it would be for anyone else, but she didn't understand why. Humans could donate a pint of blood easily, but she had a difficult time doing it. It disrupted her system.

She couldn't imagine a vampire drinking all her blood. She couldn't imagine a vampire drinking even a sip more blood then what she had given yesterday. And when this donation happened every year, the same morbid thought entered her mind; one day, this would be how she'd died. She would be old one day, and susceptible to illness but she'd have to feed Alucard again and again, no matter what condition she was in. So she'd do it, because it was her duty to do so, but _that_ time…she simply wouldn't recover. She'd get sick, and without enough white blood cells to fight off infection, she'd just slip away. Not painlessly in her sleep, but like this, on her hands and knees, coughing and sputtering and without anyone to help her. She could see it so clearly in her mind, like it had already happened.

She sat in the sand, shaking from the chills still clutching her queasy body. And she started laughing at her own prediction.

This was pathetic. "I'm just as bad now as when I was a little girl."

When she was very, very young, about five or six and just starting to grasp the reality of death, she briefly became terrified of it. She now understood that most children go through a stage like that, when their developing minds suddenly realized they would die some day and understood what death really meant and that death was permanent, and most importantly that mummy and daddy could do nothing to stop it. But at the time, Integra was in hell and the idea was all so new and terrible. Her little six year old brain thought about it compulsively. She would lay awake at night, stare at the ceiling and keep her body completely still and fear being dead. She'd think _I'm going to die some day. I'm going to die and be put into a coffin and turn into a bone person. And the worst part is I'm not going to know it. I'll just lie there._ That concept alarmed her into jumping out of bed and running into her father's bedroom every time, and within seconds she'd snake under the covers with him and shiver.

Her father looked positively enormous when she was six. And his arms were warm. She could get lost in those arms so fast. A nice cuddle with him could quell any fear. Him and Bear, her stuffed toy, could chase away all the monsters under her bed.

Funny, how eight years after Integra found herself sneaking into her father's bed for a comforting snuggle, she would meet a real life monster-under-the-bed offering her immortality. But by that time, Integra was little more grown up and had not only accepted death as reality but had also accepted duty and nothing the vampire could say would make her consider any other course. The fact that Alucard _was_ a vampire meant he'd never gotten over the fears Integra had when she was six and that made him…sad.

"Did my life just flash before my eyes?" Sir Integra wondered out loud, realizing she was still sitting in the sand, recovering. Did that actually happen to people? Yes, perhaps with her brain pumped full of adrenaline, she just had a strange reminiscence.

This time, Integra stood up _very slowly._ Even then, she felt wobbly, but she didn't get sick. "I woke up too early," she decided, walking back to the house. "There was no reason not to sleep in. I'm going back to bed until at least ten..."

She stopped dead in her tracks. Something set all of her senses alight. She suddenly became acutely aware of the sand between her toes, the dampness of the breeze, the dull crashing of the waves over a mile away

She sensed a vampire.

Sensing a vampire wasn't like detecting a smell or a drop in temperature. It was more like an intrusive thought. It was like an undetectable chemical released into the air, a chemical absorbed by your skin and carried to your brain, making you suddenly and unexplainably nervous and paranoid. It was as if your dormant animal instincts were kicking in and trying to warn you that you were being watched, or that maybe your thoughts were being read. It was usually a human's last thoughts before being overtaken by the predator hiding somewhere close by.

When you feel this sensation, the wrong thing to do is stand still. Most humans stand still.

She looked casually to her left and right, not wanting to give the impression she was looking for something. She continued to slowly go back to the house. You don't run from something that's faster then you, but you also don't wait until every tissue in your body becomes saturated with fear. That's how vampires control your mind. That's how they can simply walk up to someone and overtake them without even a brief struggle.

Sir Integra smiled to her self. So her holiday wasn't without it's merits. She certainly hoped whatever ignorant bastard who was watching her was still following her. She took her time walking, moving in a lazy zig-zag pattern as if lost in thought, completely unconcerned. She wanted to lure them out, give them the sense that they could venture closer before being detected.

She wasn't armed. She didn't need to be.

Hell, she thought, let's rub it in his face. She found a rock that jutted out of the sand and tall patches of grass and sat herself on it, facing away from where she predicted her enemy to be and towards the ocean. She waited. She wasn't tense at all. She was completely at ease, with only the minor anticipation of who might appear. This was a game she'd long know how to play. She knew how enticing she must look right now, how easy a target. Come out, come out, wherever you are. Come here and let me have a good look at you.

"Sir Integra? Aren't you supposed to have a body guard with you at all times?"

Sir Integra didn't turn around, but her anticipated deflated and her shoulders slumped her so slightly. She stated flatly, "I'm mad at you right now Seres."

"But ma'am, I didn't do anything."

"It what you didn't do."

"We're you expecting my master?"

"I wasn't expecting your master. He should be at home, sleeping right now. In fact, so should you."

"I thought this couldn't wait…It was really bad…"

Integra raised her hand and demanded silence. "You've been with us for a long enough time to not be 'new' but you are anyways. Here's how this works. I give a lot of blood once a year. I give blood quite often, but in very small amounts, but once a year I give a _lot_. And then I come here for a weekend to sleep, eat cookies and drink coffee. And no one bothers me. If the queen has been overtaken by ghouls and been transformed into a vampire herself and London is burning…it takes me two days to find out. No matter how big the crises is, I am not useful to my own people if I'm falling over myself and passing out every time I shout. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good," Integra sighed. "Now what happened?"

"But ma'am, you just said…"

Sir Integra turned sharply around. "You're not going to wiggle a problem in front of my nose and then take it away so I can go mad, wondering what it was. Is something wrong?"

The police girl was in her official Hellsing uniform. It was covered from head to toe with dry, flaking blood. "Um…no."

"What happened?!" Sir Integra was on her feet in a flash.

Seres's hands waved back and forth in panic. "No, no, no! Don't get upset! You're right, you're really sick and you shouldn't...Just..."

Integra was dizzy again, but she was furious. She stumbled forward, grabbing Seres. "Tell me right now what happened!"

"Jesus, Sir!" Seres caught her commander. "Calm down!"

"If you don't tell me, Seres, so help me god I'll…"

"But master…!"

Integra thrust her face very close to Seres's. "The worst thing you're master can do is kill you, but I will give you a fate worse then death. Why did you come here? What did you have to tell me?!"

"Master needs a new bag of blood!"

Sir Integra stared at her servant and looked down at her uniform and all the blood caked onto it. She released the young vampire from her grip and allowed herself to slide down and slump in the sand. "Oh my god." Her heart was pounding. "Oh…Jesus."

Seres was distraught. She knelt down beside the older woman "He told me to tell you it was an accident. He said that's all I was allowed to say, and then also that…he needed another bag."

Sir Integra looked in horror at Seres. "Is that _my_ blood all over you?"

"Yes." Seres's face dropped down, trying not to make eye contact with her superior.

Sir Integra was quiet for a moment. Then she burst out, "An accident?!"

"Yes." Seres almost fell backwards. She crawled a little away from Integra.

"What kind of an accident?"

"He told me I couldn't say. I don't _want_ to say." Seres shut her eyes and shook her head, apparently trying to chase away some mental image. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

Integra's eyes feverishly raked over the inhuman girl. "But you _know_."

--

Several Hours Earlier

The excitement started to get to him. His tongue slid over the plastic. His fangs pressed against the bag.

Alucard pulled away. No, he would have to remain calm or the blood would be gone before he could even taste it. Slowly, he reminded himself. Calm down. It's these moments of excitement that spoil good schemes.

He settled down on the lid of the coffin. He could take his time for once. If he did this just right, it could lead to a very gratifying experience.

He had been biding his time for too long over these two centuries, expecting the Hellsings to die out much sooner, trying to wait them out, trying to outlive them. In the meantime, he resentfully survived on their meager, impersonal, unsatisfying blood offerings, suffering between the rare occasions he fed on a live human. He couldn't endure this much longer. It was clear to him now that this arrangement in his life might last a very long time yet. He might not hunt humans again for decades or longer. Unless he found a method to make this bagged blood satisfy him, he'd fall apart at the seams.

Though no one else seemed to be catching on, Alucard could sense it in himself, had felt his performance declining slowly. It was embarrassing. It grated his nerves. On one hand, this made him desire fresh blood even more. On the other hand, it pissed him off that his skill could not make up for what he lacked in feeding.

He examined the blood bag closely. In it's place, he imagined his once little master in the dark. Her words, tinged with delicious fear, rang in his head. "Don't ever yell at me like that again."

What a delightful moment that had been.

Alucard let the blood bag settle in his lap, mimicking the warmth of his master's hands. A human's flesh was so warm. It couldn't remember what it was like to generate his own bodily heat.

He tugged his gloves off, exposing his hands. This was something he hardly ever did, something that was actually quite necessary. He had the ability to manipulate his clothing, make it liquid and change it's form, make it disappear at will. But he didn't even want the memory of his gloves obstructing his touch of the bag. Indeed, the bag now felt hot under his finger tips. He was careful of his fingernails, which were somewhat elongated and sharp, a trait many vampires shared.

Alucard let his eyes close. Again, unnecessary. But he was trying to achieve a feeling, capture a mood. That night, so long ago, with little Integra smuggled away in his den. When she had demanded to bet let out, why hadn't he said, ""Not yet. It still might be a little dangerous"?

Well, she probably would have said, "Then go out there a finish your job!"

So what? He knew what to say when he wanted something. "Let Walter deal with the stragglers. In the meantime, stay here with me where it's safe." Being in close proximity with a vampire in a room with no escape is the unsafest place in the world, and Integra would probably point that out at her age now, but as a child she might have just accepted his reasoning and waited.

He sighed. The warmth in his hands was intoxicating. He settled the bag in his lap, so his hands could be free to manipulate it as he wanted. Of course, it was also very pleasing to have that warmth and that weight between his legs.

"Ok," he imagined his little master saying. "We'll wait. But how long?"

"I don't know. Maybe not long. Maybe a long time. I don't know."

"I'm not staying here all night for your amusement, servant. I think you forgot that I'm giving the orders now, not you. I'll decide when it's time to leave." Ah! Yes! The fierce master of his fantasies. A familiar sensitivity in his body stirred.

The blood bag was starting to feel very good in his lap. "Then you want to leave now, _master_?" His body relaxed and his back slouched. He pushed the bag slightly to increase the pressure inside his thighs, all the while patiently waiting for the moment he'd sink his teeth into his master's neck.

"Um, no. Not now." In his mind, Integra took a step closer to Alucard, and now her body was very close to him. "We'll wait a bit." Sometimes Integra did allow Alucard to make decisions for her. They were rare occasions, not because Integra didn't trust Alucard's judgment, but because she couldn't bear to forfeit any power to him, no matter how small the forfeit or how insignificant the situation. She'd allow him to make decisions when she knew her own knowledge wasn't sufficient, as long as it was clear that his decisions met with her approval and that she always remained in charge. Whatever. Little victories for Alucard, he kept score.

"Of course, master." Alucard was very aware of Integra's body. Alucard rubbed his dead hands reassuringly over her arms. She hardly reacted at first, then she began to shift uncomfortably, as someone would when the cold starts to get to them. While her hands were hot, he knew his hands were freezing and unpleasant and he could feel her start to shiver.

In the real world, Alucard slumped and rested his back against his closed coffin lid. "Are you cold?" The friction from the cloth of his pants plus the warmth of the bag was extremely pleasing.

"It's chilly in here."

Encouraged, Alucard decided to be more daring with his victim. He longed for Integra to submit to him and pleasure his needy body. If he could arouse her as well…it wouldn't be so difficult to sneak a little bite here and there, up and down her throat, along her wrists and across her belly.

Just the thought of her blood caused Alucard to shudder while torrents of pleasure rippled through him. He licked his dry lips and knew he couldn't resist the blood much longer. But if he could excite himself a little more, his primal needs might outweigh his vampiric instincts a little longer and stretch the pleasure. The idea was repulsive to him, but even as he was weighing the options, his hand slid down his stomach and between the bag and his groin where he lightly stroked his own throbbing ache.

"Mmm…"

The ivory curve of her throat would be all his…

Suddenly, in reality, the bag gave. He had been so distracted, he hadn't noticed his nails had broken through the seams of his gloves, then punctured the plastic. Blood began to squirt in all directions.

Alucard jumped up immediately in a panic. He brought the shrinking bag to his mouth and desperately sucked what he could. Not to be discouraged by multiple holes, his inky hounds leaped from his body and lapped up the other streams while the maggots and worms that fell from his suddenly morphing body drank up the blood that had spilled on the floor.

It was warm. The blood was warm.

Alucard sank to his knees, doubling over what remained of the blood, his body squeezing the bag like a boa constrictor.

Heat consumed him. A pleasant buzz radiated the path down his throat and into his stomach. The ecstasy he felt went beyond the simple taste on his tongue, although the taste was indeed intense. As he gulped, torrents of excitement began to circulate through his dead veins and light up every sense. He shuddered.

Virgin blood! Warm, fresh, noble, virgin blood.

Alucard's forehead touched the ground. It was shockingly cold. He realized he actually broken out in a sweat. His skin was damp. But he was not satisfied.

He sat up slowly. He felt dumbfounded. He looked around on the floor, looking to see if there was a pool of blood he had missed, a drop somewhere he could lick up. But it was gone. It was all gone. There wasn't any blood left. "I'm not satisfied," he said out loud, horrified at himself. He was still hungry. Very hungry. He could have slugged back gallons of that blood and it would never be enough. It was pitiful! He could not possibly achieve the same sense of fulfillment with a bag that he could with a real human, no matter how deeply he immersed himself in fantasy. Granted, it had felt good. Better then any other bagged feeding he had ever experienced, but it just wasn't the _same_.

He was furious. He stood up. He wanted to kill the next living thing he saw. He was going to kill the next living thing he saw. But first…

He materialized out of his room and phased into the cooler, where the walls were lined with bags upon bags of blood. Donor blood, transported from hospitals, on reserve and waiting for him and for Seres. He dove for the nearest one he saw and ripped through it, guzzling it greedily, blood splattering everywhere. Tasteless, freezing cold swill, but he dove for more and more, biting several bags at a time, blood spraying in every direction. His body was enraged and his hounds snatched up bags of their own, snarling and howling with indignation. He was going to drink it all. It was his.

"What are you doing?"

Alucard spun and saw an appalled, plump maid. "Oh, God," she shouted realizing who she had just come upon, turning around to run away. "Excuse me Sir!" He didn't even need to _think _about chasing her down, he had already caught her and thrown her to the floor. In an instant, he was sitting on her chest.

"_Someone help me! He's going to kill me!"_

He slapped her hard. He nose just about exploded and the blood gushed. His eyes became impossibly wider at the sight of it. His head was spinning. He thought he might be having an orgasm. His mouth found her neck.

And he started to choke.

It was so painful. Integra's blood was fresh in his veins and so was her will, and she would not allow him to kill a human without her permission. In his madness, he had forgotten he was her servant.

The binds in his blood moved to kill him. There was nothing he could do to make it stop. He felt his own arteries spasm. He looked down at his hands, at the blue and green veins as they seized and writhed madly as it to erupt from his white skin, stretching over his bones, ready to burst.

Ever so slowly, Alucard released the maid let himself fall over, getting her out from under his body. "Run," he commanded her. She needed no prompting. She was gone before his eyes slid shut. He lay exhausted on the floor as his body convulsed.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I know that "unsafest" isn't a word, and I know I promised to revise this story for grammar and spelling, but clearly I lied.

There aren't enough "Alucard doing-it solo" stories in the world, which is vexing. There also aren't enough Dominatrix!Integra stories, even though it's clearly cannon. I would like to challenge the fandom community to fix these problems immediately.


	3. Chapter 3

It was early morning now, with thick swirling mist clinging to the shutters.

The Hellsing house was drafty and cold. As she crouched on her knees before the main fireplace, a young Integra concluded she was stupid at making fire. She was a very proud girl and had accomplished much in her life, but the fire wasn't going to happen. She struck the match again and again and tossed them onto the newspapers stuffed between the wood logs. The fire would burn the paper nicely, and just when the flames reached the wood and things looked like they going to get started, the promise would die as the flames shrank from the wood and sputtered out.

"This wood is inferior," Integra concluded, scratching her head.

"The wood is not inferior," Alucard scoffed, invisibly. "You don't know what you're doing."

"You do it," she said, holding the matches out into the empty air. Maybe he would materialize and make it happen.

"I can't make fire happen. Not in that fireplace."

Integra gathered her skirt up and crawled closed to the fireplace. Her small body could have easily fit inside it. She climbed up over the iron guard and placed a lit match between the logs, jamming in the wooden end quickly so the flames would not burn her tiny fingers. "Burn the wood, dammit." She sat back and watched.

Burn, burn, fizzle, dead.

"Alucard, what am I doing wrong? The wood doesn't feel damp or anything. In fact, I think that same wood has been sitting in that grate for years."

"I noticed that too."

"You'd think it would be dry enough to burn by now."

"Maybe we should turn on the gas."

"The gas?"

Alucard dipped languidly out of the ceiling, like a nymph stepping into a pond. "There's a little knob above the mantel. It's like a switch to make the room smell funny."

Integra got off her knees and glared at Alucard with indignation. "How long where you going to let me stay down there trying to set fake wood on fire when you knew damn well that this is a gas fireplace?"

"That wood's fake?"

"You're so full of it. You knew the whole time. You don't put _real_ wood in a gas fireplace." She searched around for the knob Alucard spoke of. She was too short to see where her hands where feeling but her fingers wrapped around a little metal handle. "Found it."

"Not that one," Alucard cautioned.

Too late. Suddenly a cascade of soot dropped from the chimney and covered the little girl in black film. The room was kicked up in a cloud of choking soot. Integra coughed and coughed. Alucard casually walked over and lifted her up by the armpits and walked several feet away from the fireplace and set her down again. "I don't think we're winning," he commented. He looked behind him. "That's a lot of soot."

Integra wiped her dirty glasses on the inside of her sleeve and put them back on. "Oh God," she moaned. "My father's going to kill me."

Alucard pretended he hadn't heard the comment and looked off in another direction. Integra quieted down solemnly, realizing herself. She looked up at Alucard. "Walter's going to have a fit," she corrected.

"Yes," Alucard agreed. "We should run away."

"Mmm. Excellent idea."

--

The match burned her finger.

Sir Integra suddenly woke from her revere, a grown adult once more but once again crouching before the main fireplace on her knees with a match. "That's right," she mumbled, tossing aside the used match. "Gas." She got up and she was tall enough now to see properly. This time she selected the correct lever and she heard the pipes give and the spray of the invisible gas. She got back down on her knees and lit the match, holding it close to the face wood until it sparked and the logs flitted a blue flame. She closed the glass guard and sat back, admiring her handiwork. Such a simple thing to light a fire. But what an adventure it had once been.

"I need it."

Sir Integra's ears perked. She was not alone. "I heard. You can't have it," she responded, turning to see no one.

And, just like a nymph emerging from crystal waters, he emerged from the floor. In the same room as years ago. Nothing ever changed.

"I still need it."

On one hand, she wanted to jump up and beat her nosferatu senseless. On the other hand, if she jumped up she'd pass out. Falling on the floor in the middle of a lecture might be somewhat distracting from the point. So instead, she just stood up slowly and seated herself in the mission armchair and folded her hands. "Fine. I'll try to invent a simple way to explaining how reality works to someone who doesn't live in the same reality as me. However, there's no other way I can say this: You can't."

"I still NEED it." He stepped before her, most of his body silhouetted against the fire behind him. Sir Integra hadn't been certain she could climb all the stairs to her office, where she would have preferred to reprimand her servant in private. She'd situated herself in the foyer with intent on calling for him but, to her surprise, he came to before she called. It was as if he'd been expecting her sudden return. "You're wondering how I knew you came back?" He grinned. "I'm so hungry I can smell all the blood in this house. And I so love the taste of your blood most of all. I was drawn to you instantly."

Sir Integra was used to Alucard's mind-probing. She shrugged at him. "Alucard, do you remember that time when we were trying to light the fire in here? I never did figure out whether you were just messing with me or if you honestly didn't know how a gas fireplace worked."

"I don't think you understand how serious this is," Alucard cautioned. "You don't seem too concerned, but you should be."

Sir Integra sighed. There was no talking to him anymore. She looked past his body and gazed at the fire. "This situation is not serious. I am not concerned." The flicker of flames made her want a cigar. She patted her pockets and then remembered she's still left them in her suitcase. Pity, the aroma of smoke really ought to be accompanied by the taste of a cigar. She sighed and looked back up at the vampire, who looked slightly irked at being ignored in the favor of a cigar she didn't even have. "You will go to sleep hungry."

"I will not." He kept shifting his weight from foot to foot, causing him to loll and bob his head like an animal peeking from a inside cage. "You are not a stone. There's still some blood left in you. You've already made me wait. You made me wait for months. I miss your blood." His eyes were darting up and down her body, fixated on her unseen arteries, his OTHEReyes following the pattern of her sea-green veins under her white skin. "You're the worst kind of tyrant, dangling food in front of the starving."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're hardly starving. And tyrants in glass houses and all…" Sir Integra could not identify Alucard's mood. She couldn't tell whether he was being difficult for the sake of being difficult or if he was dead serious. This was not unusual, sometimes it was impossible to predict his true motivations. Sometimes.

Alucard stepped closer to her, invading her personal space. "You wouldn't know if I WAS starving or not. I wouldn't give you time to figure it out. I would rip you to pieces, bond or no bond."

Sir Integra did not react. He wanted her to react. With authority, anger, fear, whatever. He wanted to upset her. Thus, she sat expressionless, hands folded casually in her lap, staring with heavily lidded, drowsy eyes as if his willfulness bored her.

He took another step closer, much closer then she would have liked. She didn't flinch.

She was staring directly into his stomach now, her nose almost touching his clothes. His head was bowed, sniffing around her nape. He buried his mouth in her mane, his cold breath was making the hairs on her neck stand straight. He put his mouth close to her ears and said, "I can _smell_ it."

She wasn't nervous, as a person would be nervous when large predators circle. Integra had a different perception of Alucard then everyone else and she didn't see a predator before her, but a child shouting; "Pay attention to ME!" Walter had always warned Integra in the old days to never return Alucard's taunts or play his games. He, like most others, thought Alucard was too clever and too wicked to ever be trusted on even the most minimal levels. But she was his master. For her, the rules were different.

"Your move," he reminded her, seemingly anxious for any reaction.

"I don't feel like playing."

He was looking down at her, pressing his hip into her shoulder. "I'll come to you when you're asleep and I'll wake you when it's time."

She couldn't suppress a smirk at this. "You will go to bed hungry. You will stay hungry."

"You'll have to lie very, very still. I have this…instinct to crush things that struggle. But I know you won't struggle." He put his hand against her back and further pressed his sharp hipbone against her chest.

She laughed at him. "And in your fantasy, am I wearing a little white chemise and a slender crucifix in the hopes that it will ward you off? Go to sleep Alucard. Go to sleep and dream..."

His voice was feverish; "Do you have one?"

"A chemise?"

"A crucifix."

Indignantly: "No, I don't _have_ one."

His disappointment was brief, then he jumped right back to the matter at hand. "There's no reason why it has to hurt or be unpleasant for you. It could happen slowly, over several nights." As he spoke, the pressure of his hand increased, trying to push her chest against his body. Then his other hand slid down and cupped the back her head and tried to move her face against his stomach.

Integra chose not to resist. It wasn't so much affectionate behavior as some kind of territorial indicator, proving to her that her personal boundaries meant nothing to him. He was invading her space and letting his hands roam, daring her to tell him 'no'.

"A warm body," Alucard mused, enjoying his master compliancy. "This is what I remember."

"Let me ask you, Alucard, did you really have an accident or did you throw away the bag so that you could drink blood 'the old fashion' way?"

He hadn't even heard her. "Shallow bites," he emphasized, "They wouldn't hurt." His eyes were flaming. "I wouldn't even have to wake you up if you didn't want to. Just imagine it."

His persistent pulling was starting to hurt. His hands kept pulling her closer, but she was already pressed up against him as much as she could. His gloved hand was sinking into the back of her neck, and she felt her vertebrae shift and her windpipe begin to close. She didn't want to suddenly fight back however--He was too close to bloodlust. "This appeals to no one but you," she told him.

But the smile didn't go away. He didn't understand. He had all the psychic powers in the world, and he couldn't see the obvious. He didn't understand yet that he would never get what he wanted from her.

"Alucard, listen to me: no." Before he could reply, she reached up and pulled his cravat down so his eyes met hers. "No. Not tonight. Not ever. Stop wanting it. In a few days, when my strength is back, I'll give you a new bag if you still insist on it. But it WILL be a bag and you will never drink from my veins."

His smile vanished for a second. Then it returned. "But I want it my way. On my terms." He shifted his weight again, cocking his head playfully. "Don't you want me to be happy? Don't you want me to feel satisfied so that I'll be obedient and loyal?"

"No." Time to bring him off his high. She had discovered the answers she was looking for and she didn't have to play along anymore. "You will be obedient regardless of how you feel about it. That's what being a slave is all about."

He was leaning his face towards her neck again. He purred, "I'm a servant who works for blood, not a slave who works for nothing." He found the great vein and brushed his nose over it.

"You're a servant who does SLOPPY work when he actually chooses to do work AT ALL. I'm not impressed with you at all anymore. It's harder and harder for me to justify to myself the great expense of _having _you. And I have less and less enthusiasm to defend you from the Round Table whenever they start hinting they want me to get rid of you. Of course, you don't help yourself. You keep letting the Iscariot Priest get away so that you can have a playmate, and then that vampire tart comes into this house without my permission--another playmate for you. You can't even manage to follow my most modest orders without displaying some great resistance to prove to me that you aren't 'broken'. I already know you're not broken but you spend so much time polishing that image I wonder if YOU know it. And in the meantime, you're so preoccupied _you can't do anything right_. Now you can't even drink blood. What's wrong with you? That's like pissing on your boot. And then you come crawling to me, drooling all over my neck and you think I'm going to say, 'Help yourself, I can't resist your charms'?"

Alucard straightened up and took a step back to compose himself. "Insult me all you like. You couldn't run this organization without me."

She was leaning forward now, and Alucard was leaning slightly back, retreating from her space. "I could. Now run along before I starting imagining ways to downsize."

"Then if I'm such liability and you don't need me, why don't lock me up? Or exterminate me along with the filth? It's because you _can't_…"

"You drank the blood I gave you."

"Don't change the subject."

"You did! You drank the blood bag. I think the blood all over Seres's uniform was regular donor blood from that huge spill in the freezer that she refuses...to...she's, she's _lying_. You aren't out from under my control at all, you're just playing that you are. You wanted an excuse to come sniffing around me, blame it on your hunger, but what you really wanted was to see if you could make me submit to your will. You wanted me to let you drink my blood."

Alucard was just standing there. "You're flattering yourself."

"Seres is terrible at lying," Sir Integra said. "She hasn't had as much experience at it as you."

"There was an accident."

"There was no _accident!_ This is just another game in a series of games you play to keep yourself entertained at my expense. Just look at me." Integra raised her shaking hands. Her body was still exhausted from the previous blood letting. And of course, she had not recovered at all. "Look at what you're doing to me. This is how my father died. This is how I will die someday. This is how YOU will die." She rested in hands on her lap. "The joke is on you. If you think hurrying my death along will reap benefits for you, it will not. I don't think you understand the fate that awaits you if I die because of something you've done."

The playfulness was gone from the vampire. He didn't sway, but stood stiff. "You're poor immunity is not my doing. And it was not my idea to bind me to your family's blood. This method of control was devised by your ancestors, and I'm sure you would understand that I was quite opposed to it."

"Bullshit. You love it. The way you wait with such anticipation for my blood every year… Tell me, do you relive the murder of the virgins through the taste, or do you love to feel the leash tighten around your throat?"

"And in your fantasy, do I whimper when you force me to my knees? Do I submit bound, gagged, broken?"

Sir Integra glared. "No, Alucard. That's what happens in the real world."

They continued to stare at each other.

"So are you going to tell me what kind of accident you had with the blood bag? Or are you going to drop this pathetic story and admit you were lying to me?"

Alucard stood before her, and yet he was receding. "In your mind, you compare me with a child."

She watched him leave, shouting after him. "You _are_ a child. You're a five hundred year old child. _Someone else's_ child that I can't put over my knee, a child that runs wild through my house and breaks things. And yet I'm responsible for you, I have to take care of you, I have to _feed_ you and you're all the more _spoiled_ for it. What I wouldn't give to just leave you high on a mountain peak or push your cradle out to sea, but I can't. I'm stuck with you."

He was gone, and the echo of Integra's voice reverberated. She could feel her father in her own voice--the same disappointed, defeated tone. But it also sounded powerful and unforgiving. She was proud of how loud it sounded, and at how Alucard had fled from it. And, indeed, he had fled, like a coward, but he had not surrendered. He would be back to fight another day.

"Excuse me, Sir Integra?" Walter hadn't walked into the foyer so much as he simply APPEARED there, much like a vampire himself. Sir Integra had been so focused on the vampire, she jumped at this abrupt intrusion. Both the woman and the vampire stared at the old servant. "Ma'am," Walter pressed, looking a bit uncomfortable himself, "a moment?"

"Yes," Sir Integra .

Walter stood by and said nothing.

Sir Integra continued. "I went through this peanut butter and banana sandwich stage. I'd cut them up into little pieces. He used to eat them. He didn't like them, he just ate them because they were mine and I'd yell at him and he'd be so delighted." She looked up at Walter. "I'm sorry, what did you want?"

"Nothing, Sir Integra. I just…wanted to see if everything was okay."

Sir Integra frowned. "I was in the middle of a good lecture. I wish you hadn't interrupted."

"Your face was getting red ma'am, and I know how fragile your health is right now. I thought maybe you should rest before...going at him so harshly."

"I wasn't being harsh," Sir Integra said defensively. "He must learn that he cannot behave however he wants. He must learn to obey without objection. Alucard was completely out of line last night, his behavior was inexcusable and he needed to be reprimanded and punished. This kind of conduct cannot be forgiven. You had no place to…"

Walter casually pointed in the direction in the direction Alucard had been standing. "Tell him that."

"I WAS telling him that."

"No. You were telling he was a pathetic incompetent and terrible at doing his job, but you made no mention of his actions last night. He wasn't even on the job last night and you still focused on it. And you never even touched upon the poor maid, the biggest offense of the evening." He took a breath. "And that comment about…the mountain top and pushing him out to sea…I found that quite disturbing. The imagery gave me a chill."

"So what?"

"I think he found it disturbing too."

"I want him to find it disturbing, don't you understand? He's not going to get away with talking to me like that. And furthermore, Walter," she seethed, putting extra emphasis on his name, "I'm not 14. I'm not looking for advice on how to control that monster anymore. I have it down. Just look how he fled."

"Ma'am? If you hate him so much, why DON'T you get rid of him? Or lock him away, as your father did?"

She looked back at the flames in silence.

--

Integra made her way to bed.

It was late now, she had thoroughly alienated both Alucard and Walter, her health was poor and she was far behind on her paperwork and her feet hurt. All in a night's work, she decided. However, as much as she longed for sleep, she knew she would be up all night.

She usually did not allow herself to think about the past. She hadn't had a very pleasant life and there weren't too many happy memories to look back on, so reflecting on the old days usually resulted in sleepless nights, wondering when things had gone wrong and resolving that tomorrow would be better. And yet, for all the nights she had thought ahead "Tomorrow will be better" she had an awful lot of yesterdays that she'd rather forget. Old memories, bad memories haunting her. And she, of course, had stupidly started thinking about things from a long time ago. Starting with the fireplace, and then the peanut butter and banana sandwiches and of course, her brief childhood friendship with Alucard.

---

"I can't remember when he stopped. . ."

_Of course_ she remembered when it had stopped. After all, she was the one who put an end to their Bonnie and Clyde days….

It became necessary when she was about sixteen or so. Wait, was she younger then that? She couldn't remember all of a sudden. What had come after the peanut butter and banana sandwich stage? Maple syrup sandwiches? Or did she go straight to those little rye-turkey finger sandwiches Walter insisted was more proper for a lady?

"Not those gooey, messy things," Walter had said. "Can you imagine discussing important, official business over lunch with your fellow knights…and eating those slopping sandwiches with your fingers all sticky and crumbs sticking to your mouth? You should get out of the habit of eating that junk."

The last traces of her childhood, eradicated. What was so embarrassing about her sandwiches that she wasn't allowed to eat them? Would she be allowed to hold on to nothing? Would her duties erase every bit of individuality and personality she had left?

"I empathize," Alucard had offered. In the late night shadows, he was only half visible. "I never get to eat what I want, either."

She returned to him a lop-sided smile. Even half-hearted compassion, especially from a critical monster such as he, deserved appreciation. He was her friend back then and he made a good friend. He was _just that_ much of a bastard that she could always count on him being honest. Even if he was cruel, and he often was, his honesty was what she liked best. Everyone else was still sugar-coating things. But Alucard never treated her like a child. He respected her decisions, even if he didn't understand them. So unlike Walter. So unlike everyone.

Of course, no one was quite like Alucard. He didn't act like an adult, he didn't even act like a human. For him, there was nothing demeaning about obeying a child master because he existed in the world without the pretense of having to measure up to anyone's respectable expectations. If he wanted to tear throats out left and right, he felt no shame. Likewise, if he wanted to nap the afternoon away with his head in a certain young girl's lap, he didn't owe anyone an explanation, not even her. And if Integra wanted to make a goddamn sandwich, Alucard didn't give a shit what went on it. And to young Integra, that all sounded perfectly reasonable. In fact, Alucard was a whole lot more reasonable then anyone else she had ever known.

"You like me," Alucard had commented, lazily strolling through her mind.

"I don't need to answer to that." She just smiled at him and went back to work. She knew it ought to unnerve her, him being able to read her thoughts at any given moment, but it didn't. She was strangely comfortable with him. Even when he was at his worst, panting and wild-eyed, swearing and shooting and snapping and screaming, fangs gleaming and murderous eyes glaring right at her, she barely flinched. Alucard was beautiful. He was amazing to look at. She was very proud of him, and secretly thrilled beyond words that she was his master, and also a little frightened that she might not be worthy to command such a creature. Somehow, she felt he was fragile. She might ruin or damage him somehow if she did not live up to her responsibilities.

Alucard was staring at his master as she did her homework. "You should take a stroll with me through your thoughts. You're giving me rave reviews." He sat down at the dining room table next to her. "You like me so much you even worry about me. Now how does that make sense, when I'm the immortal blood sucker and you're the little girl?"

"I am your master," she replied matter-of-factly. She scribbled down the remainder of her French translations. Home-school was such a bother. "I'm responsible for you. I'm going to take good care of you."

"Oh? And what do you mean by that?"

Sometimes, Integra felt like she could read his mind back. She blushed. How could he say things like that to her? "You know exactly how I mean it. So don't spin it like that."

"You have never asked me to do anything for you," Alucard continued. "I'd like to do something, to show my _gratitude_."

"I don't really need anything," the young girl responded, getting her school work in order. Since becoming a knight, she had to quit attending her private, all-girls school. Now she had a tutor, an especially vicious tutor who hated it when Integra brought her homework to the lessons all out of order. "I have cooks who make me meals, and maids who clean the house, soldiers to protect me and Walter looks after it all. I don't need anything." She smiled at him again. "And you like your job so much, you don't need anyone to tell you what to do. You always seem to find the vampires on your own. I often wonder how valuable MI5's vampire reports really are since whenever we catch a lead, you've already taken care of it."

The vampire cocked his head. "It is an easy life of pleasure for you, isn't it?"

Integra looked down at the mound of homework, and the stack paperwork she hadn't even looked at yet tonight still waiting on her desk. "It sure is."

He didn't seem to catch her sarcasm. "Very different from how the other knights described it would be."

"Yeah, they made it sound like I would be in constant danger. But I hardly leave the house anymore." She paused to look at him thoughtfully. "I haven't even seen a vampire besides you."

"You're disappointed." Alucard leaned close to her, so that his shoulders were touching her's.

Her smile faded. Although she liked Alucard a lot, she knew he liked to toy with her and deep down, she knew it was inappropriate "Well." She didn't look up at him. "I _know_ it's a blessing. It's better then meeting one in a dark alley and suddenly realizing I'm not up to the task."

"You don't think you're up to the task?"

"I just…" Integra caught her tongue. "What's on your mind, Alucard?"

He frowned. "You don't want to play with me?"

"I think playing with you sometimes leads me into games that aren't meant for me."

"But if you aren't up to a simple game with me, with your humble servant in your own house, what will you ever do in the real world?" He was leaning closer now, his fangs in view. "What if you _should_ meet a vampire in a dark alley?"

"Oh, so _that's_ what's on your mind." She suppressed her smirk. Well, he _was_ a vampire. She never took these mock-threats seriously, though. He would never hurt her, after all, she was his master. He could be such a tease, though. "Alucard, you know there's no vampire in the world as strong as you. After dealing with you night after night, I think I'll do just fine."

Alucard's face softened. She always knew how to butter him up. Sometimes just the right words could get him wrapped around her little finger. But then, she knew it could work both ways. "But to answer your question," Integra continued, "I just wish I had more experience. I don't wish I was in danger."

Alucard nodded. "You're very smart, but you don't act it."

She gave his a sugary-sweet smile. That cruel honesty again. "Thanks. Ass."

"I mean it. You still behave like a child, but there's a limitless world of logic and strategy inside your mind that you take for granted. I admire it. You're always thinking ten steps ahead. And unlike humans, you aren't afraid to change your mind. Most humans will take a stance and stick to a belief no matter what, even if it's wrong, because their beliefs become their identity. But you have no attachments to any philosophy or faith. You are just as subject to change as…I am. The only thing you are true to is yourself." Alucard shifted his position so that he sat right in front of Integra. "And that's why I think you should take control now. There's no reason why Walter should be in charge, leading with just your say-so. You should lead."

Integra snorted. "I do what I have to, but I still need to be schooled. I won't serve Hellsing well as a poorly-educated ignorant. I can't imagine that my studies wouldn't be brushed aside if I vied for full control now…"

"I never went to school," Alucard dismissed.

"I suspected," Integra countered. "And that's why you can't re-fold a newspaper or count change or use a mechanical pencil."

Alucard shrugged at her. "The currency keeps changing. Besides, when would I ever have to do any of those things?"

She waved him off. "It's getting late. I know you could stay up all night and torture me, but I have to go to bed." Putting her papers aside in her miniature brief case, Integra stood up and nodded to Alucard. "Good night."

"You should think about it some more," Alucard offered, disappearing.

The honeymoon lasted for a few more months after that. Integra did think about it, and managed to take more responsibility a little at a time as she became more confident. After a time she was giving all the orders, but Walter still stood as a buffer between the lady of the house and the Hellsing Organization.

"You're a child yet," Walter assured her one night as he served her dinner. "They love you, like they love the Queen. But they aren't ready to take orders directly from you. It helps that your orders go through a chain, like a quality test, so that no mistakes are made. They're more confident if they feel…"

"What you mean is," Integra pried, with a sour expression, "They like me, but they don't respect me. They have no trust in my orders."

"It's not that," Walter insisted, joining her at the table.

The young woman was depressed. She wasn't the least bit interested in food. "Even though I've rigorously trained in every aspect of battle. I can shoot better at my age then most of the soldiers out there! I have to observe every nuance, carefully plan every strategy. Having…people in my way wastes time. Why can't I just command the officers myself?"

"I swear to you, my lady, _no one_ questions your authority."

"It _is_ that," Alucard interjected into her thoughts, consoling his glum master. His presence was so real, she could almost feel him beside her, her cool arms embracing her. "They don't respect you. Most of them have never even seen you. They love you so much because you are a figure head…a helpless child for big, strong men to defend. But to see you as a commander? A child? A woman? They won't have it. What use is their manliness then?"

Integra shifted uncomfortably in her over-sized chair, staring with disinterest at her plate. What if Alucard was right? What if no one had any intention of letting her take control of her family's organization? She eyed Walter warily. This man whom she had always trusted… no, it couldn't be. Could it?

Alucard whispered in Integra's mind: "He thinks you're spoiled. I can read his mind. He doesn't trust you… he doesn't trust a girl to do a man's job."

Integra breathed deeply. There was only one way to confirm this suspicion. She never was one to beat around the bush. "Alucard tells me you don't trust a girl to do a man's job."

Walter halted immediately, a stunned. "What?"

"Is it true?" Integra demanded.

"Of course not! That's absurd! And you should know better then to trust a vampire. The only reason I haven't allowed you to go to the forefront is because your father wouldn't have allowed it."

"Lies," Alucard seethed. "Listen how he brings up the dead…. To disturb you and fill you full of guilt. What a shameless human."

"I have to go," Integra said suddenly, leaving the dinner table before Walter could stop her. How terrible this all was. She had always thought of Walter as family, like an uncle, not just her father's friend. She didn't have very many people to trust. Now it seemed like it was just going to be her and Alucard from now on. There was no one else she could believe in.

Alucard was waiting for her in her bedroom…_her_ bedroom, not the master bedroom that had been her father's, the room that had been her's through her childhood; a small, dusty rose colored room that could only have belonged to a little girl. Alucard seemed impossibly large here, sitting expectantly on her twin-sized bed with her miniature lady's furniture surrounding them. He shrugged when he saw Integra's look of surprise, seeing him here.

Integra tried to divert his attention from her watering eyes by removing her glasses and casually polishing the lenses with her hankie. "I'm not right for this job. I thought I'd be killing vampires. I've been listening to it all my life…how I'd have a duty to the queen, to this country and my family. It meant sacrificing all my own dreams, but I found ways to deal with it…I found solace in my family's pride." Her hands trembled, as she fought back tears. She wasn't going to cry. Weak people cried, and although she was miserable, she wasn't weak. "I'm trapped in this house. This bureaucratic …_bullshit_ is killing me." She slipped her glassed back on her nose. "And I haven't done anything father ever trained me to do, not once since I became the Hellsing director have I done…anything… worthwhile."

Alucard was standing right in front of her and when she noticed she gave a little start. She hadn't heard him stand up or approach. "They plot against you," he told her hastily. "But I can protect you."

She wiped her eyes. "How?"

Alucard was zealous, almost joyful. "I will kill your human enemies. We don't need the Hellsing organization. We can rule this island together, exterminating the vampire filth by ourselves without anyone in our way. We'll paint the country side red until we're the only vampires left."

Integra sniffed, trying compose herself. "You mean you."

Alucard placed his hands on her waist, ready to take her up in his arms at a moment's notice. He even bowed his head, touching his forehead to her's, eager to have the young girl and turn her into his fledgling. He was just waiting for her to show her approval somehow.

Integra stared in disbelief at her vampire servant. He had never approached her in quite this way before and never had he been so bold to take her up in his arms. Her heart was slamming against her chest so hard that she wondered if he could feel it. And although he had insinuated many times, his silly belief that she would somehow make an excellent vampire…he had never dared made himself so clear, as if he really intended to do it.

She was a little frightened. No, she was terrified. And what made things worse is that Alucard's eyes had sunk into a deeper, richer red then she had ever seen before so that she could not read him. His eyelids were heavy, though his pupils were fixated on her. He was deeply immersed in a state of blood lust and she had all his attention. But he hadn't tried to bite her yet. He was still waiting, patiently, but dangerous absorbed by her.

"What say you?" he murmured quietly.

As Integra began to calm, looking up into the smoldering gaze of her vampire pet, she was overwhelmed with a sense of…sadness.

She was failing her father. She was teetering treacherously on the brink of death or worse… contamination of her sacred family line by vampire blood. Surely, if he turned her into a vampire, she would either have to kill herself or _be_ killed. And Alucard would be killed, most certainly. Not only would she fail her family, she would fail her organization and…she would fail Alucard, too, in a way. What an irresponsible master she was. "No," she managed, shaking her head at him. "No."

The vampire made a disappointed grunting noise. "Why?"

"Because it's wrong. And no one knows better than me. Now please let go. This is inappropriate."

Alucard began sniffing around her hair. "I don't offer this thing lightly. You shouldn't be so quick to reject me."

"You said it yourself. I don't need big, strong men to protect me. Not even you. I can do this myself. Please stop that."

"I didn't know you thought of me as a man. I'm somewhat insulted."

She considered it for a second as Alucard mindlessly inhaled the sweet bouquet of her blood through her skin. "If I did it," she continued with confident resolve, "then I'd be every bit as irresponsible as those old men take me for. I really mean it when I say I want to do this job and do it right by my family. I could never do something like that."

Alucard's grasp on her loosened up slightly, but he still kept his arms around her protectively. "You don't have a family, remember little girl? The only other person who shares your blood is me. You put it there, remember?" His smile was genuine. "I likewise wish to put my blood in your body. Don't you wish, as I do, that we could be closer? We could achieve that, if we shared our blood completely."

Again, some sadness returned to the girl then. How she longed for family. However family, which could love unconditionally, was something she suspected a vampire could not be capable of. Even Alucard, for whom she had much affection, could not replace what she had lost. It was best to just move on.

"You can't be my family, Alucard."

--

In the darkness, Alucard lay quiet on top of his own coffin lid. Hours of night yet lay ahead of him, but he had no desire to get up. He had a vague feeling inside of himself that he'd never felt before, or else he had not felt it for so long he'd forgotten what the feeling was.

"_You are a child. You're a five hundred year old child. Someone else's child . . . I'm responsible for you, I have to take care of you, I have to feed you . . . What I wouldn't give to just leave you high on a mountain peak or push your cradle out to sea, but I can't. I'm stuck with you."_

The memories were welling up in his brain like blood surging under an infected, scabbed-over wound. He pushed back at them, refusing to remember he had ever been human, had ever been a baby, had ever slept in a cradle at the mercy of callous humans. He refused to remember he had ever been roused from his childhood bed by strangers and dragged away...dragged far away, while his father looked on and said nothing.

He had always been as he was. He had always been a vampire, and he refused to have a single memory from before this existence. And he had never lived anywhere else before this house. There had never been a castle, there had never been slaves or familiars. There had never been Abraham or Harker or Mina or....it never happened.

He had always been here. He lived here, always had, and Integra had always been his master. Most importantly, nothing would ever change and everything would always be as they are now. He would never die.

And Integra would never, ever make him leave.


	4. Chapter 4

Monday mornings were something to be seen at the Hellsing mansion.

As a rule, the Hellsing Organization never shut down for weekends. They were ready and available 24 hours a day to come to England's defense at a moment's notice. However, Hellsing's sister agencies lagged on weekends. When they returned to full capacity Monday morning, Hellsing was overwhelmed with weekend reports of suspected vampire activity that needed to be investigated. It was always a flurry of activity, flared tempers. For years it had been a problem. For years, little had been done to correct the problem, but Hellsing adapted and made do. Walter, of course, over saw the entire production.

It was barely dawn, but the evidence of Monday was already clear. The sounds of percolating coffee makers, the trumpet of choice to rouse the Hellsing household, drummed noisily throughout the first floor. Almost immediately, a swarm of staffers bustled their way through the foyer to prepare the conference room for the busy day of meetings that lay ahead. They had to be ready on time.

And already, changes were being made to the schedule.

Walter opened up Sir Integra's bedroom doors and briskly walked into the dim room. "Excuse the intrusion ma'am, but the maids will be in here in a moment. Why don't you take the opportunity to shower?" He threw open the drapes and turned expectantly towards the bed.

Sir Integra was an unmoving lump under the covers. "Mmm."

"I can bring you tea?" Walter offered, fetching her bathrobe from the wardrobe.

"Nnn." Slight shifting, then stillness again.

"At least take the time to change into fresh night clothes, maybe brush your teeth. I'll find a comb for your hair, we'll put it up in a nice bun."

Her head poked out from under the covers, like a fox peering out from under a log. Blinking drowsy eyes at her servant, she muttered, "You're planning my hair, too?"

"It speaks volumes," he replied without skipping a beat. "It's a, uh, a caricature thing. It says, 'I admit I'm sick, but I'm not disheveled. I can't get out of bed, but that doesn't mean I can't be professional.'"

The woman slowly sat up, her achy bones shifting. "Librarians wear buns. So do waitresses."

"It may be superficial, but we're taking a big risk continuing with your meetings while you stay in bed. We need all the defense we can find, even if you do find it silly."

Sir Integra shook her head at the older man. The logic of a normal person. She had decided that Walter was relatively normal, anyways, and that she was somehow scarred for life. Normal-people-logic escaped her. She had always found it helpful to trust Walter, regardless of her reservations, as he lived in the real world and Sir Integra lived in a reality of her own making.

---

He was a long black shadow hunched over the work bench, meticulously cleaning his guns.

"Isn't it a little early to be preparing for battle, Master?"

Alucard smiled, pulling back the hammer of his Jackal. The clip was empty of course and when he fired, the trigger made a satisfying, sharp click.

Seres peered around her master, examining the weaponry he'd laid out on the workbench. They ritualistically shared this space, or rather, Alucard didn't mind that Seres hovered over him while he worked. It was a rare occasion they spent time together. This work room gave Seres an excuse to be with her master and talk to him from time to time.

Apparently, it was Alucard's intent to carry more then his usual guns this evening. The double barrel shotgun with the sawed off barrel sitting there on the table was an unusual and base addition to his collection, as was the Remington. Messy, inefficient weapons not suited for killing vampires. Seres regarded these unfamiliar guns with a raised eye brow.

"They're good for killing humans," Alucard answered the police girl's thoughts.

She blinked. "Planning on killing humans tonight?"

He ignored her. Alucard plucked up the Remington and examined the magazine. "Hellsing doesn't allow the soldiers to carry these kinds of weapons anymore. But they won't throw them away because we can never have too many guns in the house." Alucard replaced the magazine and set the weapon down. "So no one will mind if I borrow it."

Seres came around the table. "No one will mind," she asked, "or no one will _notice_?"

"It's Monday. They already have a lot on their minds. I wouldn't want poor, tired Integra agonizing over the possible reasons I'm taking liberties with her inventory."

She frowned at him. It was normal for him to be evasive, as he seemed to be dangling bits and pieces of a puzzle in front of her nose on purpose. He_ wanted _her to know his mind this time. "We don't even have our orders yet. What are you gearing up for?"

"Our neighbors are dropping by for lunch. I'm going to entertain them."

"Our who? We don't have neighbors."

The larger vampire tucked away his weapons under his coat. "That Irishman and his Italian friend."

Seres's color visibly dropped a shade, a freakish appearance when considering she was already a pale vampire. "When?"

Alucard began walking out of the room. "This afternoon," he answered with a shrugg. "This evening. However long it takes for a private plane to fly from Rome to London."

Seres chased after him. "You're the only one who knows?"

"And I'd like to keep it that way for now," he answered. "So try and contain yourself."

"What are you planning to do?"

"My job."

"Why can't anyone else know?"

Alucard chuckled at this. "When you bring a gift to a lady, it loses it's meaning if she first has to tell you that she wants a present."

Seres was appalled once she understood what he meant. "Is this what you _do_? Instead of bringing Sir Integra flowers to say you're sorry, you bring her the heads of her enemies?"

A smile. "I'm romantic like that. Besides, flowers from me would unnerve her."

"Yes. I'd rather get a bloody head from you. You strike me as a bloody head kind of guy."

Somehow, either the joke was sailing past Alucard's head or he was ignoring it. "That's what I thought."

"How did you even find out the Iscariots were coming?" she asked.

"I invited them." Alucard looked very satisfied.

"_What?_"

"What's wrong with that?" Alucard asked in mock defensiveness. "Gentlemen used to call out their enemies, quite politely, for duels all the time. Why should I have to wait for them to trespass on our soil? We hate them. They hate us. We should kill each other, like civilized people."

Seres stared at Alucard. "That is the most… absurd reasoning I've ever heard."

Alucard shrugged again. "Integra would understand my logic."

"I doubt that."

"She would," he said, and meant it. Since she had been a child, although they disagreed on many things and argued about everything, they shared a common reasoning, a common logic. Nothing was more assuring then knowing someone who always understood where you were coming from, especially when no one else could wrap their heads around your ideas.

With this in mind, Alucard had decided with resolution, right or wrong, respect or no respect, he needed Sir Integra on his side again. These petty feuds between the two of them had to end. Even if it meant he himself had to give in. He couldn't expect his master to compromise with him any further, as by now she felt burned and used by him somehow, and all she wanted to do was fight him. He had to be the first to offer peace.

He had learned his lesson from the basement.

It was better to seduce and entice then to torment and harass.

--

"This information is disturbing," Father Renaldo huffed. "I demand an explanation, Sir Hellsing."

Sir Integra smiled into her tea. "It's the gentlemen's way of settling their differences. Surely you can't argue with my logic."

The man seated across the bed folded his arms in distaste. "It's simplistic and barbaric. I can't imagine this indulgence has been met with any official approval."

"You mean her majesty? Of course not."

"I was thinking more along the lines of your comrades sitting at the Round Table."

"This isn't official business." Sir Integra gently set town her tea cup on her night stand and neatly folded her hands on her lap. "This is entertainment between two spoiled children from two opposing empires. It's a cockfight, a pit bull ring."

"This is most unusual, unprofessional…"

Sir Integra waved him off. "I'm certain that Paladin Anderson is just as enthusiastic about this opportunity as Alucard is. And I can imagine Enrico Maxwell is just as curious to see the outcome as I am. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have sent you." She reached for her tea and sipped it again.

Father Renaldo gritted his teeth and stood up in a huff. "The Vatican has better things to do then play games with heathens. I'm sure Father Maxwell would come here himself to tell you so if he didn't think this was some kind of trap to assassinate him. But the Iscariot Organization won't back down from such a brazen challenge. We'll kill your pet vampire, rest assure." He stormed out of Sir Integra's bedroom, the armed guards standing at the door eyeing him as he went.

Sir Integra sat quietly in her bed, holding her tea, listening as another set of guards escorted him out of the house. She waited until she heard the heavy front door latch shut before she began to scream.

"_Walter!"_

He was in her room in a flash. "Ma'am? What did he want?"

Sir Integra's eyes were aflame, her jaw clenched, her fists shaking. When she spoke, every word was halted. "We're going to find Alucard. Get _every_ soldier we have, wake up whoever is still sleeping in the barracks, stop all training duties, call all off duty men, _get them here now_. Alucard's going _back in the basement_." She took a deep, shaking breath. "He's going to have a few years of 'time out' to think about how _bad_ he's been."

"What happened? What's going on?"

"He pretended he was me and wrote a letter to Enrico Maxwell, forged my signature, stole my family seal, and invited Alexander Anderson to come to London for a friendly duel to the death."

Walter's monocle fell from his eye.

"All with the official Hellsing seal on it. With my name. _My_ name. _My signature. _Asked them if they'd like to come to London. Invited them." She flung the tea cup across the room, shattering it against the wall. "Now we can't attack these terrorists for invading the country because _I _apparently_ invited_ them. And _I've _given them permission to use London as their battlefield."

"B-but Ma'am, you haven't! Just explain to them…"

"Explain _what!_ That I can't control my vampire? That he just does whatever he wants, and 'Oh, don't mind Alucard, he just won't behave'? 'Sorry for the confusion'?" Sir Integra glared down at the floor, her exhausted body trembling in spite of her weak state. "No, instead I have to pretend this ridiculous idea is really mine and let it happen."

Walter cautiously approached the raving woman. "Please, ma'am, calm down. I'm sure we can find a way to get through this situation."

But Sir Integra was inconsolable. She was lost in her own thoughts, grumbling now and rambling furiously. "That little shit. That little…that little horror, that _worthless_ little..." She looked up at Walter, her eyes grown wild. "He's going _away_. Do you understand?"

"Sir Integra, please, your nerves…"

"They'll only have one chance, understand? Invincible or not, he'll be exhausted after such a fight."

Walter was at a loss, thinking fast, trying to come up with some plan to occupy Sir Integra before she screamed herself into a stroke. Besides, he knew the current soldiers occupying Hellsing weren't strong enough to take down Alucard. Years ago, this thing had been attempted before, and he had seen the bloody results. "We don't need to gather troops to take care of Alucard. Let me talk to him. There's no reason why you have to allow this battle to take place at all."

Sir Integra laughed at her butler, though there was no humor. "And what is it you intend to say to him? What can we do at this point to reverse the inevitable? I just sat here and played along in front of one of Maxwell's personal bodyguard, _confirming_ this duel. If I go back on what I've said, the only person who loses in this situation is me. I'll be humiliated!"

"Then don't go back on what you said. Have _Alucard_ go back on it." Walter shrugged helplessly, scrambling for words. "Let it be his embarrassment. You won't have to have anything to do with it."

Sir Integra swung her legs over the side of the bed, tossing her mane over her shoulders. "No, he'll never back down from a fight. And he won't allow himself to be humiliated as a punishment." Carefully, as Walter watched tensely, she lifted herself up to her feet, holding onto the bedpost tightly for support. "This battle will go forward and I will play along."

"And afterwards? What will become of Alucard?"

"Well." The woman tied her robe closed. "He didn't learn his lesson after 20 years in the dark, what will another 20 years mean?"

--

The grass was soggy and by the time she had climbed over two softly rolling hills, her slacks were soaked. The grass easily rose waist high here in the countryside. She shivered, but was thankful for the cold that kept her alert rather then the past days' heat, which had only intensified her dizziness and low blood pressure.

Walter had driven her here, against his better judgment, after coaxing Alucard's location from a reluctant Seres.

In his red coat, Alucard was a flame against the springy green countryside. From afar she could see how he was trembling with expectancy, like a race horse at the starting gate. He was absolutely wild looking. Under his coat, his demons were writhing, slithering around his torso, blinking at her with passionate ecstasy.

Upon seeing her, he turned suddenly.

She answered his startled face: "I wasn't going to miss the fight I arranged myself."

The vampire was still for a moment. But when he saw his master wasn't going to erupt, when he saw she was quite calm and even a bit easy, he began to smile. "Then I don't have the luxury of fouling tonight." He swayed, as he often did, his body fighting to hold itself together. He didn't seem the least bit disturbed that he had been caught. "You've been so angry with me." The soft way he added those last words hinted at an apology he wasn't willing to offer.

She climbed slowly up the hill and joined him at the crest. All around them lay miles of grassy sea and dirt roads snaking into the distance. The wind was picking up a bit. Sir Integra felt her long hair lifting off her shoulders. She tucked the stray strands of white hair behind her ear.

"You're a sight," Alucard said. "I'm glad that you're here to see this." His own hair was streaming into his face, obscuring her vision of him.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. This is how I would like to remember _you_ when I'm old. Standing triumphantly on a summit, awaiting a battle." She breathed deep, gazing at him. "_I'll_ have to remember this moment, so I won't forget."

He laughed a little at her. "I'll always be the way you see me now. I'm the one thing you can never forget."

"You're a little too confident in your permanence. This…" she gestured towards him, "This is the last time you're going to look like this."

He lost his smile a little. She _had_ come to fight.

She peered off in another direction, scanning the horizon for the Iscariot car. Any minute, they should appear. "I don't have to explain to you how I feel. You're smart. You're psychic, at least. You should know."

The brief relapse to harmony, which had reminded him so much an earlier, happier time, was done before he could touch it. He'd never been one to recognize or appreciate an important moment when he'd seen it. They often escaped him. "I'm not going to apologize to you." He didn't say it with insolence; he merely returned her jaded tone.

The Vatican car appeared over the horizon.

Sir Integra had not noticed yet. "So what do you want this time, nosferatu? Blood? Attention? Clout? I'm very tired and I'm willing to deal."

Alucard looked at the car apprehensively, then back at Sir Integra. "This isn't the time."

"This is the _perfect_ time." She lifted her arms, mockingly. "Reap the spoils awaiting you."

Miles away, he could see the glint of a blade behind tinted black glass. "This isn't the time for these games," he hissed.

"It's not fun being tormented when you have important, pressing matters…is it?" Her eyes followed his gaze, but the Vatican car did not interest her. "Maybe I should run home and burn your coffin, too, and see how well you can concentrate on the Priest."

"There's nothing funny about that." His master opened her mouth to retort, but Alucard's hand struck out and grabbed her mouth, both to silence and warn her. "You're in danger here. You should go." The vampire released his master's face. He watched her stumble backwards from the force and fall down, sinking into the grass. When she looked up, there was blood on her mouth.

Smeared crimson.

It briefly drew his attention, first because he hadn't realized with what force he had struck her, and second because_ there_ it was. A steady stream of red. There was some on the grass. On her hands. She was looking at it, at him.

"I'm done telling you I'm sorry," he said. "You deserved that."

Sir Integra didn't seem the least bit perturbed. "Walter thinks I'm too hard on you. He tells me I shouldn't have moral expectations of you because you are a vampire."

At last, the Iscariot car was drawing near. It came to a stop at the base of the knoll.

The woman continued on: "And as a vampire, although you can be taught to be obedient, you can't be taught to be good. So when you have slip ups, you aren't doing so to be sneaky or malicious, or to challenge me."

As she talked, her mouth continued to bleed. Red drips fell and Alucard's attention went back and forth between her and the car.

She knew he was still listening. "You're doing it because it's your nature. It's your nature to kill humans. It's in your nature to be violent. The fact that you were able to get away with is _my_ fault because I'm not dealing with you properly." She looked back at him. The Vatican car did not interest her. "And we both know that's bullshit. You don't act the way you do because you're a vampire. You act that way because you're an _asshole_. You were an asshole when you were a human, and you're an asshole now. Impaling people. Starving your own countrymen, marching them into unwinnable war." Sir Integra wiped her mouth, then reached into her coat, hunting for cigars. She hadn't smoked in so long on account of being sick. "I'm revoking your contract."

The vampire tore his gaze from the car and stared at her.

She met his eyes with no expression. "Seres can take over your job."

"And what do you expect me to do?"

"Whatever you like—presuming, of course, that you leave England."

"'Behave or I'll sell you to gypsies?'" Alucard taunted. "I really believe that—a mother's empty threat." The demons inside his coat swirled, their heads poking out at her and hissing like steam engines. "As if you'd really throw away your most advanced weapon—something your family has invested so many years in, so much money, so much time…"

"With no results. _Backwards_ results. I'm cutting my losses here."

"Liar," Alucard said flatly. He, too, seemed to forget the approaching enemy, who had now exited his vehicle.

"You never consented to the experiments my predecessors performed on you," she continued, "but I know you're pleased with yourself now. You're far more developed then any vampire in the world. This wasn't a raw deal for you. But I'm not going to ask anything more of you." At last, she found a lonely cigar in her pocket. She took it out and inhaled it's smoothing scent. She placed it between her red stained-teeth.

There was no more avoiding the priest. He was at the bottom of the hill and the car was speeding away. Alucard knew if he lingered there any longer, Sir Integra would be dangerously close to their battle. But the seconds dragged on like hours and it was seductively tempting to remain, to continue the much more perilous combat against his master.

Alucard tried for one last strike: "I know your heart," he hissed, facing the fast approaching priest, raising his gun at him while continuing to talk to Integra. "But I will always be a disappointing son. You should never have tried to adopt me—no amount of love or discipline can ever change me back into a human."

Integra crunched on the cigar tip between her teeth. At last, her eyes followed the barrel of his gun, and what it was pointing at. "All those years ago, you said you wanted to be family—mix your blood and mine, remember? You were the one begging."

"I was trying to take advantage of the void your father left," he admitted, looking sideways at her, backing up. "I was positioning myself to take your father's place...you have some fucked up Freudian ideas about me, thinking I want you to be my _mother_."

The glint in her eyes softened. "You don't. You want me to be your father."

It cut, and he flinched.

It cut because it was true. It cut, because it all made sense. He wanted her approval. He wasn't a man until she said so. And she was stronger than him, a thousand times more, because when confronted with a threat as a child, he had crumpled in the corner. And when she had been confronted with a threat as a child, she stood unyielding and said "Bring it on."

It cut because he wanted to take her body. No--he wanted_ her_ to take _his _body. And he knew why. Because he had never known consensual lovemaking. Because victims of abuse grow up to be abusers. Because his violent fantasies were the product of his early sexual experiences, and nothing _excited_ him like an opponent stronger than him, one that might overtake him. Until she decided to _take_ him, or until his frustrations boiled over to the point where he took her, he wouldn't even know where to begin to pleasure her human body.

It cut. A cradle pushed out to sea. And it was happening again, and this time he had no one to blame but himself. He would, now and forever, sabotage his own happiness, unable to learn from his mistakes, unable to grow, immortal in his stupidity.

But mostly, it cut because _she_ knew all these things. It cut because she knew him so well. It cut because she had known all along, and had forgiven him all his faults for reasons beyond comprehension--until now. Her unlimited, Christ-like patience wore out at last. For all his adoration, she was just a woman.

_Beg_, he thought to himself. _Beg for forgiveness. _

He could never beg, though. He couldn't beg from his own father, who looked the boy right in the eye as strangers dragged him away, knowing full well the fate that awaited his own son. Alucard had suspected it, too, though it didn't ease the shock, pain and humiliation when his knees were forced apart for the first time and his ragged trousers torn away. He had wanted to beg then. Beg for mercy, beg for his captor to stop...and he knew even then, even as a boy, that begging would only make his humiliation that much sweeter for his captors, would encourage them, and that no noise could ever escape his lips.

_That never happened_, Alucard reminded himself. _That was a dream I had once--a nightmare. That memory is not real. I was never human. I was never a child, never a man. I have always been as I am now. I have always lived in my master's house, and Integra has always been my master. I have always served her, and I always will and nothing will ever change._

Anderson was here, like a hurled stone—cold, unyielding, and careening ever closer.

--

_None of it is true, _Alucard thought. He had been a human, once. A disgraceful, pathetic and weak humans, as all humans were pathetic and weak. He had regrets, things he wished he could forget and never would. He could live a thousand more years, and he could never put enough years between himself and his human life to erase that man.

_Allow yourself to be cut down_, he thought suddenly. Die honorably, right now, and disappear from this disgraceful existence in a manner that would absolve Hellsing the embarrassment of surrender, and spare himself the indignity of dismissal. No one else need ever know. His shameful secrets would be kept by Integra.

But he couldn't. He could never do such a thing. For all the miseries that had tormented him in his life, when it was so easy to succumb to death, he had fought on, determined to live at any cost. The idea of surrendering his life now sickened him. And yet the long expanse of years and years and years lay before him with no end in sight.

The gun felt so heavy in his hands. Alucard wanted to keep it raised high, raised at the priest, but the barrel began to drop slightly.

--

The blade glinted in the cold moonlight.

_Well, isn't he going to move?_ Integra thought.

--

A second blade struck the first.

Integra's scabbard was inferior to Anderson's blessed blades, and she was infinitely weaker. She could not defend Alucard, but her swing was enough to change Anderson's trajectory so his blade careened wildly to the left, barely missing the stunned vampire.

It was enough to snap Alucard out of his stupor, in time to see Integra's sword drawn and locked with Anderson's, standing between the priest and the vampire.

Now, Alucard was alert, and he shoved himself into their fray.

--

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I went back and forth a while, considering whether I should include the final scene as its written here. I never considered Alucard someone who could be overwhelmed by a sense of failure and misery to the point he would to die. Certainly, I believe Alucard is a character incapable of outright suicide. But, as a creature who secretly longs for an eventual end to his immortal existence, it occurs to me that the only way this could ever happen is if its both voluntary and compulsive.


	5. Chapter 5

Alexander Anderson.

Another almost mythical, idealized figure of violence, vitriol and masculinity, completely at odds with Integra's cold and soft haughtiness, the Paladin Iscariot was out of control. Like Alucard.

They had fought for hours. Well into the dawn, a red cusp was creeping over the horizon in a thin slice of plasma. Even though England was soggy from several days' rain, Alucard felt the moisture evaporate from his lips, his skin raw and cracking. The sun could not harm him in his advanced state, but it still stung his sensitive nocturnal skin. He had to squint his eyes to see. When this battle was over, he would have blisters to nurse.

Anderson kept putting his back to the sun, forcing Alucard to continually advance into the glaring dawn.

Alucard had no bullets left. His guns were discarded, laying forgotten in the grass. Anderson's infinite arsenal of blades was also exhausted. The two monsters, grotesque parodies of men, fought on with their bare hands. Between grunts, they had taunted each other, but the glee eventually evaporated from their voices. For the past half hour, neither had spoken.

Anderson's jaw had unhinged from the skull, and was hanging by a flap of flesh. White bones jutted from his raw knuckles.

Alucard's left leg was partially severed at the ankle, and he dragged the lifeless foot with him by the skin of his boot. His neck was sliced open, exposing the windpipe and esophagus, and the gash traveled over his collarbone and into his chest. His usually neat suit was mostly shredded. His discolored flesh morphed into maggots and tried to cling to his skin and regenerate, but he was losing strength, and they fell from him as he moved, instantly burning up into cinders in the dawn.

Neither opponent was regenerating their wounds with any speed. The warriors limped and struggled.

_Give up_, Alucard thought to himself. _Give up and die_. But he continued to advance into the blinding sun, despite the pain. Under his clothes, his legs trembled and ached. He might not have any say if he died today or not. His immortal body was in very real danger of collapsing.

Suddenly, Anderson's body went slack.

Alucard almost fell forward. Anderson's hands around Alucard's throat relaxed. The priest expelled an involuntary sigh, and as his legs buckled, he collapsed against Alucard's stomach and slid down his body until he crumpled into a heap on the grass. "It dinna' matter... how much abuse ye take," he gasped, blood on his teeth. "Ye just stand here. 'Aye could take ye' head clean off...you'd just stand there...." He lay face up in the grass, eyes squeezed shut tightly in agony, arms and legs twisted in the most unnatural way, pools of deep red seeping around him.

The sun felt hot on his scalp. The vampire let his inky hair fall into his face, shielding his delicate red eyes.

Below him, Anderson breathed deeply. The open wounds pumped thick, red blood, which spilled into the grass.

For a moment, Alucard stood over his quarry in dizzy, unbelieving glory. His shame and self doubt immediately evaporated. He felt giddy with power. How perfect it all was. The broken limbs, the exposed ivory throat, the pools of blood, the supple flesh, the shredding clothing. He knew what had to be done. The one thing had been longing for, days upon days, aching for, thirsting for. And Anderson must have had an inclination of what the consequences would be if he tried to fight him to the death and lost, so that when Alucard sunk to his knees and positioned himself over his fallen opponent, Anderson didn't even open his eyes or flinch.

Alucard leaned in. He hesitated for a moment, inhaling the bouquet of old and new blood, sweat and soil. Anderson's scent was thick and hot. Heat radiated off his skin, warmer then the sun's rays, and Alucard could not help but lean closer and absorb that heat. The vampire planted his gloved hands in the grass on either side of the man's head, and lowered his mouth towards his face. He dragged his tongue over the man's dirty, bloody muzzle. He almost laughed when Anderson's expression screwed up in disgust, but he didn't move. "Just do it quickly," Anderson said between clenched teeth.

But Alucard wasn't having any of that. Again, he slid his tongue over the priest's mouth, feeling the man purse his lips together tightly. Alucard lifted Anderson's limp wrist and sucked a bloody finger into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the captive digit and released it with a soft, but audible pop. The taste of fresh blood began to revive Alucard. He felt his body slowly reforming, and pleasant buzz filled him, increasing his heart beat, igniting his senses.

Fresh, warm blood. A living, breathing victim.

Alucard lavished attention on Anderson's bloody knuckles, lapping up the warm blood that pulsed from the broken skin. Anderson began to tug his arm away, but Alucard kept the man's wrist clamped in his inhuman grip. As the vampire's saliva began to heal the wounds, Anderson relaxed again. Alucard made a low noise, almost a growl. He could barely contain his hunger. With his victim subdued and relaxed, he nosed around the man's chest, hunting for other open wounds to lick. He followed streams of blood to their sources. He had learned the value of being patient while he fed, learned the joy of taking his time. He would not gulp and suck this time.

There was a gunshot wound that hadn't healed up all the way, low in the priest's belly. Alucard latched onto the wound and began to suck, slowly. The more he drank, the more powerful he felt. And there was so much more left. These were tiny nicks and scratches. There were gallons and gallons left, potentially hours of pleasure. He felt himself shuddering in ecstasy. Just the anticipation was causing ripples of pleasure to race though his body.

Anderson began to twist weakly in uncomfortable disgust. "Why den ye just suck my cock while ye down there, too, ye _faggot?_"

Alucard stirred from his foggy, ecstasy-laced feeding. That was a _very_ tempting invitation. Alucard released the wound and let his head rest on the priests thigh. "Hmm," he considered lustily. He hungrily nuzzled his nose and mouth against the front of the priests trousers, finding it warm.

Anderson began to wrench his body violently, finally finding the will power to try and get up. "You repulsive...!"

It had been a while. Alucard could still remember his own throat fucked raw as a small boy by his captor. At first he had been ashamed by what they forced him to do, but through the years he had discovered how powerful it made him feel when he could suck his jailers off to a pitiful, wailing orgasm. They all thought they were so powerful and intimidating, but no one's intimidating when they're thrusting their pathetic, tiny dick in your mouth, whimpering like a baby.

Anderson's arms and legs were broken. For all his struggling, he could not resist, and there was no reason for Alucard to stop. And as the vampire thought about it, the more he wanted it. He didn't necessarily wanted the man's foul seed in his mouth as much as he just wanted to hear Anderson beg and moan against his will. That was his favorite noise. He'd do anything to hear that beautiful sound. Hungrily, and delirious with bloodlust, Alucard moved to grab the man's fly with his teeth.

"Enough. Compose yourself and return to my heel."

Alucard's arousal vanished and his blood turned iced cold as he heard Integra's voice behind him. His spine straightened, but he didn't get up, or turn to meet her eyes.

Before he could even finish thinking to himself that he didn't care what she had seen or what she might think, he heard her snap her fingers, and he was crouching at her side. His eyes were fixed on the grass. He flinched when she unexpectedly reached down and hooked her finger into his cravat and tugged him closer. His face came in contact with her thigh. She kept him pressed there. Her leg was warm against his cheek. Inside her flesh, he could hear the dull pounding of blood pumping angrily in her veins.

"I hope this has satisfied your foolish curiosity," Integra said coldly. "I expect you'll conduct yourself with restraint from now on--or you _will_ suffer the consequences."

Alucard was ready to nod when he realized she was speaking to Anderson.

Anderson lay motionless in the grass. He was looking at the woman and the vampire, breathing quietly in humiliated relief.

Integra didn't wait for Anderson to answer. She turned sharply, wordlessly, away from both the defeated man and the vampire and descended down the hill to the car that awaited her.

---

Alucard was covered in severe burns.

He marveled at them in baffled wonderment--that he had sustained them at all in the first place, and also that they still remained even hours after he had taken shelter indoors, and also that they ached and stung so. His masterful undead body was a magnificent specimen of everything a vampire could be. But his wrists and neck were covered in swollen welts that couldn't be willed away.

He stood in a guest bathroom in the Hellsing mansion, digging through the medicine cabinet. He had no idea what he was looking for, or even if a human remedy would sooth his wounds. He warily eyed plain bottles and plastic jugs, having no idea what any of these chemicals did. Cautiously, he reached for the hydrogen peroxide.

"Don't do that!"

Alucard turned suddenly.

A young Integra, no more than seventeen, stood in the door. "That'll just make it worse. What _happened _to you?" she demanded.

Alucard shut the cabinet door and put his hands behind his back. "Nothing." The truth was, he had procrastinated in his duties the night before while hunting down stray ghouls. He had known a vampire must be producing the ghouls, but he had neglected to hunt it down fast enough because he became fixated on a lone human woman running away from the slow, undead creatures. She had already been bitten by them. Odds were at the rate she was experiencing blood loss she would die soon. Instead of helping her, he remained in the shadows, engrossed in her panicked fleeing, trying to mentally calculate how long she might have and how her infected blood might taste. He hadn't fed in a long while. And yet, he made no move. He waited, and as the ghouls overtook her, he watched in frustration and hunger. When it was over, he wiped out the monsters that remained, and well into the dawn he finally destroyed the vampire.

"Nothing?" Integra asked incredulously. "Your face is all red."

Alucard hadn't noticed the burns on his face--he couldn't see his reflection in the mirror.

She wore her university uniform--a plain brown suit that fit her generous female body. However, she had taken to wearing the male student's uniform with the slacks instead of the skirt, and that robbed him of the pleasure of seeing her long, slender legs. He speculated she went to these lengths to cover her body to end the stares of the men around her--including his, from time to time. For many years, he had lusted after her blood and had spent many hours tracing the blue veins of her throat with his eyes. But recently, his eyes had begun to trace the rise and fall and rise of her breasts.

Alucard realized he was staring and looked down at the floor. He couldn't help but be overwhelmed by her sometimes. As if their bond wasn't painful enough already. When she had been a child, they had shared a close, intimate relationship and he relished in her adoration and attention and thought her affections were limitless, so he offered his immortality to her and was prepared to take the little girl as his vampire bride. Her rejection was crushing.

Since then, she immersed herself in studies and devoted herself to Hellsing and there was little time for her vampire pet. Years had passed and she had become a virtual stranger to him, and he to her. The trust was gone. In its place was a strained but professional civility, with all the warm of an ice cube. If he touched her, she would tense up. Yet, there had been a time when he fell asleep in her small arms.

Integra eyed Alucard's face suspiciously. "You look gaunt. When was the last time you fed?"

Alucard scowled at her. "None of your business."

"Ah. I thought so."

"How often I feed is _none of your business."_

Integra said, "I know you don't like bagged blood--but you need to feed more frequently because....because _this_ happens. You become susceptible to injury."

Alucard said evenly, "I think you should _finger_ yourself more frequently, because if you wait too long to get off, you get bitchy."

The young Integra pursed her lips. "None of my business. Got it." There was quick flash of hurt in her eyes, but it vanished quickly. Whatever compassion she had felt for his injuries was gone now. She turned quickly and walked out the door.

He watched her go with regret.

--

In the late hours of the morning, Alucard had taken refuge in a infrequently used guest bedroom. He pulled all the drapes shut until the room was nearly black, then he weakly collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time. He hadn't slept in three days, not since the day Integra had given him the bag of her blood, and the exhaustion was creeping up on him. That botched feeding had only been three days ago? It felt like a lifetime now.

Sitting up, Alucard gingerly shrugged out of his long red coat and stripped out of his bloody ragged shirt and draped in on the bed. Blood ran down his mangled torso. He had started to regenerate slowly from his prolonged battle with Anderson, but it was as if his body had no motivation to do so quickly. He tried to patch together his gaping throat wounds with his hands, feeling the flesh fuse back into place with a little encouragement. He would clean himself up as best he could, then decide what to do.

His first idea was to hide here. Just for a few hours, and see if Integra came looking for him, and then he could test her temperature. Or, he could seek her out immediately and make an impassioned plea for another chance. Or he could just go back to his coffin and go to sleep, forget this whole day and pretend it never happened, and maybe Integra wouldn't bring it up again. Or, he could walk to her office, accept his dismissal and leave quietly.

He had been willing to die for her just a few hours ago.

Maybe, Alucard rationalized, leaving Hellsing was for the best. He could form a new identity. Maybe he could make himself into a man. A man someone could respect. A man maybe even Integra could respect. He tried to imagine what a man Integra could respect would look like. Something human, he imagined. Something that didn't look like him.

He would never be a man.

He wasn't capable of being a man Integra could respect.

He looked at his ungloved hands. There was blood and dirt under his yellowed, elongated vampire finger nails. He sat down on the bed, looking at his hands with nervous a obsessive interest.

"Messy," Integra chastised.

Alucard craned his neck.

She was standing in the doorway, arms folded. She had taken a shower, and her hair was still damp. It was pinned neatly in a swept up bun, stray white tendrils framing her face. She had changed into a sharp, black suite, nicely pressed. Neat and proper, that was Integra's way.

Tucked under her arm was small clutch of papers. "You've always been very good at making things messy," she chided.

Alucard's body was badly wounded. Gnarly slashes and sopping open gashes crept up his neck and down his white chest. He had several gaping stab wounds in his stomach and flanks. For the most part, he had stopped bleeding, but the flesh was not yet fused together. But there was blood smeared over some of the blankets, and it had pooled on the floor by his feet as he had tended his injuries. Alucard felt underdressed and disgusting in comparison to his very polished looking master. He glanced at his raggedly shirt and coat on the bed. Normally he could regenerate his clothing as well as his body, but he was exhausted. He doubted he could do either. He decided against putting the clothes back on.

Integra noticed him eyeing the clothing, saw how he made no move to dress himself. They had never shared such an intimacy that they paraded in front of each other in various stages of undress and she had never seen her vampire without all his clothes. She had always been mildly curious about his build under those heavy Victorian layers. His exposed, white skin and lean muscles pleased her, even while they were marred in injuries.

Integra adjusted her glasses. She realized she had been staring. She didn't want Alucard to notice. But Alucard seemed anxious to look anywhere but at her. His eyes fixated on his hands folded limply in his lap. "I notice you have papers," he murmured.

--

To be continued....

From here on out, the chapters are going to be rated "M", so if you're looking for them in the future, keep that in mind. Night.


End file.
